Seattle's Death Cab for Cutie are the closest the 21st century has got to a pure, no-compromise indie rock success story. Sure, they signed to a major, but only after building their craft, REM-style, over four foggy, grunge-pop albums. Yes, they hit the US No 1 spot, but with songs about amorphous loss, emotional inertia, stalker-ish obsession and crumbling relationships.

True, singer Ben Gibbard married the indie-flick goddess Zooey Deschanel, but in their plaid shirts and specs they exhibit all the A-list glamour of a lumberjack poetry group.

"I've got a tinge of melancholy this evening," Gibbard announces before the rapt singalong of a solo I Will Follow You Into the Dark, their crossover song that resembles a delicate acoustic suicide pact. It's a bit like Billy Bragg saying he's feeling a tad let down by the Tories at the moment; Death Cab's brilliance is in conjuring hooks and atmospheres that transcend their intrinsic thematic gloom. They pile-drive through just such an opening salvo – The New Year chimes ferociously, Crooked Teeth bounds along on a trampoline groove and new track Doors Unlocked and Opened seems to freefall into its own chorus like a juggernaut into the Grand Canyon.

They're prone to letting the occasional number wallow, though: plodding rarities 405 and Title and Registration provide a mid-set slump, while clunkers Underneath the Sycamore and Home is a Fire prove new album Codes and Keys to be something of a water-treader. It can't last: jubilant country jig Stay Young, Go Dancing and a rapturous Sound of Settling resuscitate the gig in time for a euphoric encore of Marching Bands of Manhattan and Transatlanticism that can't even be marred by an incongruous cover of Ride's Twistarella. This is Death Cab firing on all cylinders, even if cruise control is currently engaged.